The Commander's Dead!
by Volitan
Summary: Dr. Leonard McCoy was a damned good doctor - but even HE wasn’t good enough to save the Commander brought to his sickbay. A humorous little fic, honest.


**The Commander's Dead!**

_Dr. Leonard McCoy was a damned good doctor - but even he wasn't good enough to save the Commander brought to his sickbay. A humorous little fic, honest._

**I am an amateur author of false name,**

**I borrow worlds of another's fame.**

**I stake no claim on recognised locations,**

**Neither do I own canon situations.**

**I merely come here to spend a while,**

**Reading other's work; writing my own style.**

**I earn no money, no wage, no dosh.**

**I gain no finance, no revenue, no cash.**

**I do not mean to step on legal toes,**

**I mean no infringement, I'm friend not foe!**

**So please, do come in, relax, unwind.**

**I hope in my work, enjoyment you will find.**

~st2009~

It was a calm day in the sickbay of the _USS Enterprise_ - not that its CMO or on-duty-nurses would _dare_ voice that statement aloud. To verbalise that sickbay was having a slow day was an invitation for an epidemic or a mass-casualty incident to suddenly descend upon them. So, the medical staff went about their business quietly, looking around nervously as if waiting for the other shoe to drop; they'd _never_ been this quiet!

Leonard was actually _ahead_ with his paperwork, and for the first time in his history as CMO, his in-tray was completely and utterly _empty_ of the stack of PADDs it usually held. However, it looked as if the Yeoman assigned to medical was obviously _itching_ to change that, so he sent her on her way to the Captain to get all the paperwork he'd filled in signed off. He'd settle for thirty minutes of an empty in-tray while she was gone bothering Jim.

Whilst he'd been busily tapping away at his PADDs, the nurses and medical technicians had had the time to recalibrate all of the biobeds, refill all the various dispensers and set the cleaning robots off cleaning the walls and ceilings.

The CMO _pretended_ not to notice as most of them congregated around the small replicator in the corner, drinking cups of coffee, eating the odd chocolate biscuit and generally having a good gossip. If there was juicy gossip, it usually reached the nurses _before_ the Chinese Whispers diluted it into something ridiculously far from the truth, so the CMO also _pretended_ not to listen in on their conversations.

Head nurse Chapel, however, was sat at her own desk in her tiny office, one large PADD in her left hand as she made notes with her right on another. Peering through the window between their offices, the CMO noted she was learning the medical information of another species that had recently joined the Federation, and breaking it down into more manageable chunks to brief the other nurses with.

Deciding that he also had the time, Leonard moved to the more comfortable couch he'd demanded for his office (because it was more comfortable to catch a mid-crisis-cat-nap on than a fold-up cot), and began to also read through the information himself, highlighting areas of vast importance - such as which drugs were a definite no-no, and species-wide digestive intolerances.

His deep concentration was shattered fifteen minutes later as two boys came sprinting into Sickbay, both yelling at the top of their lungs that 'The Commander just died, and that they had to do something!'

In a blink the gossiping stopped and every member of Sickbay's staff were ready for an emergency. McCoy dashed out of his office, kit in hand, ready to make a run for wherever the boys had come from, Chapel barely a second behind him with her own kit.

McCoy recognised the boys, Charles and Thomas Hembrigg (called Charlie and Tommy by everyone, save their grandparents); they were the seven and three-year-old sons, respectively, of the quartermaster and his tactical officer wife. The pair were obviously in a state, and not making much sense. Unfortunately, the medics didn't have time for the confused and upset ramblings the boys were crying.

"He's dead! He was fine, and then he stopped breathing! And then he kinda twitched and that was it!" sobbed the oldest, still catching his breath.

"He c-can't be d-dead, you have to s-save him! D-do the shocky-thingy to make him alive again!" cried Tommy, clutching the hem of his big brother's shirt.

"Charles! Thomas!" McCoy snapped, getting their attention quickly, "Which Commander, and where are they? Which deck?"

"He's here. Commander Nibbles." whimpered Charlie, opening his hands to reveal a hamster. A dead hamster.

"As you were, everyone." McCoy said with a sigh, looking around as his staff hastily got out of the way, most of them biting their bottom lips to prevent laughter. It would have been cruel to laugh when the two children were so obviously upset.

"You're a d-doctor, you can m-make him better!" cried Tommy, wiping his running nose on his brother's shirt. Charlie was too busy staring at McCoy to notice.

With a deep breath, McCoy bent down to the childrens' level, carefully taking the hamster from Charlie and gently placing it in the kidney dish Chapel held out for him.

"I'm so sorry, boys, but I can't make Commander Nibbles better." he said gently, watching as Tommy's sobs became more violent, and as Charlie looked unbelievably angry.

"But you're the _best_! My Daddy says so! He says you can make _anyone_ who's sick better! I heard him telling Mommy you spenkialise in mendical minnacles, or something like that!" he yelled.

McCoy screwed his eyes shut for a moment before reaching out to take both of Charlie's hands in his. "Charlie, I can't do anything for a dead hamster. I'm really, really sorry."

"But you're a _doctor_. Mommy and Daddy both said that if we get sick or hurt and they're not there that we have to come straight to you! Mommy and Daddy said you'd make _any_ owies all okay again if they weren't there to make them better!" Charlie whimpered.

"I am a doctor, but I can't help anyone - people or animals - if they've been dead for longer than about half a minute. And _even then _I can't always do anything. And, Chalrie, I'm not a vet, I don't know what to do with a hamster." McCoy said softly, being utterly honest - he didn't see the point in lying to children. Belatedly he did wonder where either of their parents were.

"Commander Nibbles isn't coming back?" whispered Tommy, letting go of his brother's shirt as Chapel picked him up and cuddled him to her. The three-year-old clung to her like a baby monkey, his arms around her neck and his legs locked around her waist.

"Comm. the quartermaster." Chapel mouthed to the nurses as they watched, one rushed to obey her orders.

McCoy picked up Charlie as the seven-year-old crumpled, sitting on a biobed and hugging the child close as he cried, the tears soaking into the doctor's tunic.

"I got him last Christmas, not the Christmas this year - the one before. I looked after him with Daddy, but Tommy was too little to help look after him at first; but he helps now he's bigger, 'cause three means you're bigger." Charlie croaked through his cry-sore throat.

"Three-and-a-quarter!" Tommy hissed, briefly pulling his face out of Chapel's neck to correct his brother.

"Boys, Commander Nibbles was nearly eighteen-months old, that's a really good age for a hamster." McCoy soothed. "They don't live very long, they normally only last for a year."

The quartermaster came running into Sickbay, visibly frazzled. "Charlie, Thomas? What happened? Where's Lieutenant Yates?"

"Daddy! Commander Nibbles died!" sobbed Charlie, reaching for the other man.

"He hasn't been eating for a few days, and he's been sleeping more and more…" he muttered, hugging his oldest close to him. "… but you can't just run away from the person watching you when your Mommy and I are on duty at the same time!" he scolded.

"You said if we got sick or had an emergenercy owie, and you and Mommy weren't there that we'd _got_ to come here! Commander Nibbles was dead, which is _worse_ than sick, so we came here! We used the emergenercy overrider code thingy on the door to get out! Like you said to do!" Tommy explained, with the logic that only a child can have.

"_Lieutenant Yates, to Sickbay! I went to the bathroom and came back to find that I've lost the two kids I'm keeping an eye on! The computer says you have them? Are they okay? What happened? I can't reach the quartermaster, and their Mom is in a meeting…"_

"McCoy here, calm down, Lieutenant, we've got them, they're physically unharmed, their hamster died and they brought him to Sickbay."

"_Oh, thank God. I can't believe it! I was gone maybe a minute! I'll come get them."_ she commed.

"No need, Yates, I've got them." their father replied, setting Charlie on his feet and gently peeling Tommy from Chapel.

"_Aye sir. I'm so sorry, sir. I didn't mean to let you down, sir."_

"Don't mention it, their Mom and I need to have a chat with them about what an emergency actually is." the quartermaster turned to McCoy and Chapel, "I'm so sorry for wasting your time…"

"… don't mention it, they did what made sense to them, though I agree with clarifying what an emergency actually is." McCoy said.

"Yeah, but what if you'd had a _real_ emergency to take care of?" the quartermaster asked, taking both boy's hands ready to go back to their quarters.

"We'd have managed to keep them safe and out of the way, most likely with one of the techies until we had time to check on them." Chapel replied.

"I'm sorry, really sorry about this… come on boys, let's go home. But first, say sorry to these nice people for interrupting them, and then say thank you for looking after you."

"Sorry for innneruping. Thank you for the hug, Miss-Nurse-Lady." Tommy sniffed.

"Sorry, Mr-Dr-Sir, Thanks for erm… sorting this out?" Charlie wasn't sure _what_ he was saying thanks for.

"My head's all owie, and my tummy feels all wierd." Tommy whimpered, rubbing his temples.

"Mine head hurts a bit, too. My tummy's okay, though" Charlie voiced.

"Those were nice manners, boys. And your heads hurt because you've been crying so much, the same goes for your tummy." McCoy said, "Give me a moment to get you something." One of the technicians came running with an oral suspension paediatric painkiller that they'd just replicated (suspecting they'd be asked for it), the boys had one spoon-full each.

"What's gonna happen to Commander Nibbles?" Tommy squeaked, standing on tip toe and peering at the kidney dish that contained the hamster's remains.

McCoy didn't have the heart to tell them that the hamster was going to be thrown into a clinical waste bin as soon as they'd left Sickbay, so settled for a small fib - just a small one. "We're going to make sure he's taken care of."

The boys and their Father left Sickbay, McCoy finally bursting out laughing as they overheard the conversation between Father and sons:

"Daddy, do hamsters go to Heaven?" Tommy asked.

"I'm sure there's a nice place for hamsters when they die, but I'm not sure about heaven…" the quartermaster replied.

"Daddy, what's that thing called when people die, the one where the Captain-Mister talks and stuff? When you get all dressed up in your posh uniform? Where everyone is sad?"

"You mean a funeral?" their Father replied.

"Yeah, do you think the Captain-Mister would do one of _those_ for Commander Nibbles?"

~st2009~

Within a few hours, the story of how the Hembrigg boys had run half the length of the ship to Sickbay with their dead hamster for the CMO to revive, had swept through the crew. Probably due to the gossiping nurses and a CMO who had actually been required to write a _report_ about this, because he'd given the children something to take their headaches away, and he'd had to give a _full description _of _why_ he'd given them something.

The Admiralty were going to be laughing their assess of at this report, McCoy just _knew_ it.

~st2009~

Despite their parents telling them _not_ to bother the Captain, the brothers approached Kirk in the mess and asked _really nicely_ if Commander Nibbles could have a full Star Fleet funeral service. Kirk had _almost_ given in to the pair of puppy-dog eyes presented to him, but carefully pointed out that Commander Nibbles wasn't _actually_ a member of Star Fleet, and therefore couldn't have a funeral performed by the Captain.

Thank goodness the boys took his word for it (though, Commander Spock backing him up _might_ have helped matters). They reluctantly dropped the subject after apologising for 'inneruping' the Senior officers' dinner.

After the boys were out of ear-shot, McCoy had pointed out that there would have been _no_ _damned way _he'd have sifted through the clinical waste bin to retrieve the hamster's corpse had Jim agreed to perform a funeral.

A few weeks later, Commander Scott arrived at the quartermaster's quarters, holding a domed cage with his pet tribble (long-since-neutered), enlisting promises from the two boys that they'd look after it just as well as they had done with Commander Nibbles.

Lieutenant Fluff lived for five happy years in the extreme comfort of a quartermaster-and-chief-engineer-produced extra large cage, with two doting owners.


End file.
